Philippe was a welcome sight at the train station as we arrived in Lyon after two days of travel. His sing song “Bonjour” rang out above the noise. I liked him instantly, his warm smile and his offering of croissants, pain au chocolate and a crusty baguette in the bag he passed to Alex.
We settled into our new home during the wintery days to come and I began to embrace our first home-exchange experience. As I rummaged through the kitchen cupboards I thought of the family of five in our home, doing the same, rummaging through our things. I wonder do they laugh at our funny way of life as we laugh at theirs. Three questions come to mind; how does a kitchen operate without 1) a casserole dish, 2) a pair of tongs, and, 3) a good knife. I cannot believe I didn’t pack my cook’s knife, something I tuck safely into the depths of my bag even on the shortest of trips.
Our apartment is comfortable and we have a large terrace which Alex claims as his French cricket pitch. It is perfect really, surrounded by a thick hedge which stops the ball from travelling to the next lot of apartments. So far the ball has only made it down to the road twice and I am so happy we invested in our Wahu cricket bat and ball as Alex uses it several times a day. Hundreds of windows overlook our terrace, so we amuse onlookers by playing cricket regardless of the rain and cold, we just rug up and have a great time.
Days tick over and the fog of jet lag slowly leaves us as we adjust to our new time zone and our new, relaxed way of life. Acquiring food seems to dominate each day as we plan which market to visit and how to nourish our bodies. We soon are able to distinguish a good baguette from a bad one and have our favourite boulangeries duly marked within days of declaring ourselves temporarily Lyonnaise.
Lengthy visits to the prefecture for our Carte de Sejour (residency card) are tolerated by us all. It seems so unnecessary for us to have to jump through the same tedious administration hoops we had to jump through with the French Consulate back in Oz when applying for our French visas. Thank goodness we have our new found friend Philippe with us to translate for us. JR doesn’t tolerate bureaucracy well, I assure him we are making good headway and once we have the last piece of paperwork sent from Xavier in Australia, and we have passed our medical checks, all will be fine.
We embrace the Lyonnaise people and they embrace us which fills our days with joy. The local market bustles on a Sunday when the number of stalls triples. Trestle tables are laden with bread, cheeses, seasonal fruits and vegetables; earthy artichokes lie alongside bunches of blushing radishes, potatoes crusted with rich earth and shining eggplants.
We claim the butcher nearby, Maison Moraud, as our local favourite after our second visit. It is owned by Didier and Corinne Moraud who welcome us warmly with each visit helping us make sense of the charcuterie and meat on display. Their saucission brioche is made to perfection. Its fat, tasty sausage is studded with jewels of pistachio and is encased in a rich crust of brioche. It is just heavenly. So heavenly in fact that today we returned home with a saucission brioche weighing over one kilo. The traditional Rosette de Lyon (salami like pork sausage) has become a favourite filling for our crusty baguettes. Didier prepares it to order just as we like in wafer-like slices which he wraps in a neat bundle and passes to Corinne who cheerily completes our transaction. Shopping for meat and charcuterie is something we all get involved in and enjoy immensely.
Right beside Didier and Corinne’s shop we discover yet another boulangerie who has perfected the art of baking baguettes. These are the kind of simple pleasures that make even the bleakest of winter days in Lyon a delight.
